the outsiders sister

Untitled Part 2

yes i know taylor swift wrote the poem i love her so much i had to put it

I woke up a five thirty in the morning. Nobody else was up yet, and Dallas was sleeping on the couch. I filled my water bottle- we had a million of them, but I only used the one, I was scared to touch anything my siblings had touched- and stepped outside. It was chilly, and I was in biking shorts and a sweatshirt. 

I started to jog down the pavement. I was on my way to the gas station, the one where Sodapop and Steve worked at, though they weren't there yet. It was four and a half miles away. Everyday, I would jog there, buy a pack of gum or a soda or something, then run back. Sometimes, I would run out to town, where I'd pick up something or other from the list of stuff we needed. I would pick from the array of sticky notes on the fridge. They each read something like, "new lyter plz - soda". 

Today, I ran to the gas station, where I picked up a pack of spearmint gum. I ran all the way back, almost doubling my jogging speed. I didn't listen to music as I ran, even though I know that a lot of people do- I don't really like music. I just listen to my feet hitting the sidewalk over and over again. Sometimes, I think up poems- I don't write them down. 

I do have a journal of poems, though. I just write in it when I have the journal on hand. I don't now. It's usually on my dresser. I don't have a desk or a closet. I keep everything I own either on or in my dresser or under my bed. My room isn't small, but I only get half of it, so that part is small. I share it with Delia. She's not allowed to come onto my side- she's a human tornado.

Nobody knows about my poem book either. One of my favorites was Maroon. 

"The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me,
And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was,
The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones,
The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon."

My book isn't filled. 

I got home at eight. The lights were staring to come on, and I opened the door. Nobody looked up, but they were all in the kitchen. Someone was making breakfast, but I don't eat breakfast, so I walked back to my room. As usual, Delia's side was wrecked. 

I got dressed in the bathroom, then went to work. I worked as a receptionist at the mall. Nobody really ever came, so I brought my book and sat down to read. My shift ended at one forty five. 

When I was done working, I walked home. I wore a fitting black skirt, knee length, and a white button up, which I'd tucked in to the skirt. It wasn't my best outfit, but it wasn't horrible either. I had nothing else for the rest of the day, and nobody had stopped by the museum, so I'd ended up finishing my book. 

I had a few dollars in my pocket, so on the way home, I'd stopped by the thrift and picked up a lousy white dress. White was my favorite color. All my clothes were either white, gray, or black. 

When I opened the front door, the house was quiet. "Hello?" I asked down the hallway. The house was never empty. I smiled to myself. The house was never empty.

There was no response, so I walked to my room. I pulled out my sewing kit from under the bed and turned the dress that I'd found: https://www.halloweenforum.com/media/ratty-thrift-shop-wedding-dress-i-got-today-for-22-i-hope-to-dye-this-thing-gray-or-black-modify-the-length-and-get-rid-of-that-train-and-do-a.45704/full halfway into my idea: https://i.pinimg.com/736x/3d/12/7a/3d127af6f13ce6c884235ff7a59b3977.jpg

I would finish it tomorrow. I heard the door open and slam shut. "Hey!" I heard someone yell, not Delia or Darry. Darry didn't yell, and Delia sounded like a girl. I got up and walked to the sound. It was Dallas.

"Hi." I said, not unkindly. The lights were off and just a little sunlight filtered through the blinds. 

"Is anyone else home?" He asked me. I shook my head. 

"Okay," He said, walking past me, into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and took out a beer. I was about to turn around and walk back down the hallway where I'd come, but he stopped me by talking again.

"Why are you home?"

"What?" I asked him.

"You're never home. What's different?"

"I have my afternoon job off today." I said. 

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you knew everything." he said mockingly.

"I don't." 

I knew he was joking, but I never joked, with anyone. Sure I wanted to, I just didn't know how.

He didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. "Want a beer?" he asked.

As if I hadn't helped to buy those. "No, thanks." I don't drink.

"Cigarette?"

"It's okay," I don't smoke, either.

He made a 'hm' sound. "So, whatcha' been up to?"

"Sewing," I told him. 

"Can I see?" He asked, trying to make conversation. 

"Alright," I say, waling down the hall, expecting him to stay and wait for me in the kitchen. Instead, he follows me. I open the door to our bedroom, not closing it, unsure of whether I should invite him in or not. He follows me.

"Don't think I've ever been in here before," He says. "I can't tell which side is yours."

He's kidding. Delia's half is a pigsty, mine is spotless. I pretend to laugh, trying to be nice. I pick up the dress off my bed. "It's not finished," I tell him, trying to excuse how bad it looks right now.

"Huh. It's nice." He says.

I smile and nod.

"You sew a lot?" He asks.

"Most of my clothes," I tell him.

It's his turn to nod, and he does. I fold the dress and put it on my dresser. He turns around and walks out of the room. I choose a new book and read.